“Chill. I got my revenge. It was sweet.”
Hatchet chuckled. “It really was.”
Merrick stood, glaring at him. “Why didn’t you give her the code to my house? That would have been a better place for her to go.”
Hatchet shrugged. “Couldn’t remember it.”
“You couldn’t—” Merrick threw his hands in the air. “It’s my birthday. You couldn’t remember my goddamn birthday?” He fumed as his gaze returned to me. “Get your shit. You’ll stay in our spare room.”
“No can do, bro. Working today. But, fortunately for me, I can remember your birthday. I’ll move my stuff tonight.”
“I’ll have a prospect do it for you,” Merrick said.
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Have Coast do it. I like him.”
Merrick’s eyes narrowed at me.
“God, not like that. Could you stop being an alpha-hole for like, five seconds? Coast gave me a ride home last night. Good guy. He has my vote. Not that I get one, because I have boobs. But, if I did get a say in club business, then my vote is he’s fully patched.”
Merrick glanced between Thane, Reaper, and Hatchet. “I was going to suggest that anyway. I know it’s early, but he’s proven he canbe trusted. It’s time to patch Bayou in, too, now that the dust has settled.”
Thane nodded.
“I’m good with it,” Reaper agreed.
I stuck my tongue out at Hatchet, downed the rest of my Red Bull, and grabbed another bottle of water. “Now that this little interrogation is over, I have to get to work. Save lives and all that.”
* * *
The hospital bustled with energy as I moved through to the locker room. Dr. Patel waited for me outside the door.
“What’s going on with you and Dr. Rossi?” she asked, always direct and to the point.
“I ended things.”
Dr. Patel pulled her long hair into a high ponytail. “Figured as much. Messy?”
I huffed a laugh. “You could say that. Why?”
“He wants you on his service today.”
I froze, pleading with my eyes. “Please, no. I’ll volunteer to change bedpans all day.”
“Relax,” she assured. “I told him you were with me. But you look worried. Do I need to get HR involved?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t returned his calls or texts since I left. Maybe I just need to talk to him and get it over with. Then he’ll finally leave me alone. I’ll find him at the end of my shift. Thank you, though. It’s not just that I have no interest in his specialty or that we broke up. He’s been …” I trailed off.
“You don’t have to explain to me,” Dr. Patel said. “I worked with Dr. Rossi at another hospital, and I heard … rumors. Just don’t talk to him in private. I don’t trust him. And let him know that I’ll go to HR if there’s any inappropriate behavior.”
I smiled at my supervisor, grateful for her mentorship and support.
Then my day went to shit.
A sweet elderly patient coded on me twice. After resuscitating her, the family caused a scene and called me incompetent. While Dr. Patel calmed them down, my iPad crashed, deleting hours of notes. Then I lost a patient. Literally. A ten-year-old wandered away from her bed, and I spent nearly an hour tracking her down in an irritating game of hide-and-seek that I did not consent to.
A pile of paperwork sat before me as I attempted to eat lunch before my pager buzzed again. And by lunch, I mean a granola bar and another Red Bull. As I sorted through insurance forms, discharge summaries, and lab orders, a familiar voice rumbled above me.
“Dr. Morris.”
